


the spaces in between leave room for you and I to grow

by klainelynch



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Historical, M/M, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainelynch/pseuds/klainelynch
Summary: Somehow, this had become normal. Thousands of years of questions, and now dates at the Ritz were a near-monthly occurrence. Well, date might be too strong of a word, Crowley conceded. They were friends, proper friends for sure, and that was fine. Really, it was only a few years ago that Aziraphale had even proposed this new layer to the Arrangement. It was more than he could have hoped for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	the spaces in between leave room for you and I to grow

Somehow, this had become normal. Thousands of years of questions, and now dates at the Ritz were a near-monthly occurrence. Well, _date_ might be too strong of a word, Crowley conceded. They were friends, proper friends for sure, and that was fine. Really, it was only a few years ago that Aziraphale had even proposed this new layer to the Arrangement. It was more than he could have hoped for.

“Are you—?” Aziraphale asked, pointing at Crowley’s dessert. Crowley took one bite of his cake and declared himself too full for even one more. This, too, had become part of the ritual. Crowley ordered, Aziraphale asked, Crowley gave. If it were anyone else, Crowley might have been annoyed, but with Aziraphale, he could never muster up the energy.

Aziraphale grinned and reached across the table to grab the dessert. As he did so, his sleeve pulled up his arm. Crowley frowned.

“Angel, why are you wearing some sort of human brace on your wrist?”

He snatched his hand back and covered it with his other hand, as if Crowley were an infant and would forget about it as soon as it was out of sight. “It’s nothing. A— new fashion accessory, that’s all.”

Crowley snorted so hard that he began coughing. “Medical devices aren’t fashion statements. And even if they were, you’d be the last one in the entire world to hear about it.”

Aziraphale turned pink and took another bite of his cake rather than respond to this (undeniably true) statement. When it became clear he wasn’t going to come up with another lie, Crowley tried again. “What happened? Why can’t you just heal yourself?”

Without taking his eyes off his cake, Aziraphale replied, “They keep track of who needs healing.”

“Your people?” Crowley asked with the start of a look. He never had anything nice to say about Heaven on the best of days, and this didn’t sound like something that would change that opinion.

Aziraphale nodded. “If I healed myself, they’d need to know how I broke it in the first place, and they won’t like the answer.”

“Well now you’ve got me curious too,” Crowley said. “What’s so bad that an angel can’t report it? It wasn’t something you were covering for me, was it?” Their Arrangement had become less about job assignments and more about spending time together, but there was still the occasional trade.

“No, nothing like that. This was something of my own doing.” He gave a sad smile before he continued. “It’s that war America’s involved itself in— the one in Vietnam.”

Well that certainly wasn’t the answer he expected. Crowley hadn’t known Aziraphale to pick up a weapon in...centuries? Millennia?

“You went and fought in a war? When did you find the time? And on what side could Heaven’s moral weight possibly fall?”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to laugh. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear boy. My fighting days are long behind me. No, I went and joined a protest in Washington.”

“Oh, did you?” Crowley was impressed. “How did you like it?”

“It was wonderful,” Aziraphale said with shining eyes. “All those young people, so passionate and driven. It really lets you know She’s taking care of everything if these are the people who are inheriting the Earth.” Crowley let the bit of propaganda slide, at least for the moment. “So if it was so wonderful, how did you get hurt?”

“The police broke it up, as they always do. They’re getting more and more violent about these things. It was all I could do to keep everyone else’s injuries non-fatal; I didn’t even realize my own corporeal form was in the way of an officer’s baton.”

Crowley’s smile grew as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips, imagining Aziraphale in front of a crowd, protecting them like the very first humans put on this Earth. It never ceased to amaze Crowley how Aziraphale could find new ways to impress him without even realizing it. Except—

“Hang on, ‘as they always do’? Angel, how many times have you popped over to America for a protest?”

Aziraphale sat and thought for a moment. “Oh, this must have been the seventh or eight time. Yes, it had to be the eighth because Heaven told me to stop interfering after the fifth time, and that has slowed me down a bit, I’m afraid.”

“No— don’t tell me— has Heaven actually chosen _sides_ in this damned bit of imperialism?”

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, goodness no, they think America’s being dreadfully reckless. But they also think this conflict will help bring Armageddon about, and I’m not to interfere with that, even if it does mean more young people and innocent civilians dying.”

A war just to bring about another war; it shouldn’t have surprised Crowley, but it did disgust him. Still, it’s not like he had any room for judgment where one’s side was concerned. This war had souls defecting left and right from organized religion, and Hell was only too happy to pick them up.

“So how much longer are you in the brace?” Crowley asked.

“Only a few more weeks. It’s really not too bad, only it does itch like the dickens at times.”

Crowley reached out a tentative hand. “Want out a bit early? My people don’t check quite as close as yours.” Aziraphale’s relief was instantaneous, and he put out his wrist. “Oh, would you! Thank you, dear boy.”

Crowley had to remember to breathe as his hands carefully grasped Aziraphale’s wrist. Technically, it wasn’t an intervention that required touch, but that made it easier, Crowley told himself. He breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The result was immediate; both beings could feel it. Aziraphale rolled up his sleeve and removed the brace. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“S’nothing,” Crowley muttered.

“Let me invite you to the bookshop,” Aziraphale countered. “I’ve got a new rosé that may interest you.”

A new part of the ritual? Crowley wasn’t sure, but he sure wasn’t going to say no. “Alright, yeah. Good. I’ll just get the bill then?” 

It wasn’t easy, being so close to someone you were in love with and not being able to say anything. But Crowley had lived centuries without Aziraphale, and while he could do it, he wouldn’t have chosen it over the pain he felt now. There was always something new to discover about Aziraphale, even all this time later. He only hoped that Aziraphale felt the same curiosity about him, and would allow him to keep making intriguing discoveries.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized that I've now posted four historical fics in a row for this pairing. What can I say? I love reading about them throughout the ages, and I hope you do too.  
> Title is a lyric from Rush.  
> Comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [klainelynch](https://klainelynch.tumblr.com/)


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